Here It is, straight up, *******, naked words. I miss her. Not all of the time but when I say her name or someone ask me about my brief life before college, I miss her. I don't know how to explain it. I never got the chance to paint my body with love for her and I never got to feel her breath on my skin but her voice and her laugh and her ******* life intoxicated me. She was the happiness before the reality. She was my smile and I may sound like I'm over doing my feelings for her but it was real because there was distance and there was truth in my feelings but lies in the way I told them. There was work being done. Work on myself, work on us. Here's the reality after the happiness. She disappeared when I left. Only God knows why she left but she did and I'm not writing to stitch up a broken heart, there is not a broken heart. I'm writing to remember that a connection like that doesn't need years for it to build but it also doesn't need years for it to make an impact.

Lately I've been having withdrawal symptoms. I can't sleep, sometimes I can't breathe, I could only think and it's driving me ******* insane that I can't think about you anymore because If I do I'm sure I'll ******* fall down your **** throat again. And yes I ******* mean that because you're the one that had the heart big enough to catch me and after you did you had the audacity to let me fall deeper and deeper until I ******* fell out. How, why did you let me fall out? I was sure I was going to stay within your heart but I ******* didn't and now I'm jumping back and forth between two hearts that aren't even fully mine to keep. It's like they are making me cheep offers that are not even close enough to what you gave me.  I don't mind that it's gone because it was supposed to be gone but who dies without leaving a body behind, you know?

When you sleep in the house of God you devote your life to molding yourself each and every morning to his liking. You read the script to the best of your ability knowing that the more you drink, the more the words will pile up next to the bottle. But you don't care, you get on your knees, and you pray, and you ask him if being **** is wrong, why did I **** one of your daughters and all she could say was your name? You see, they believe in you just like I believe in music and they trust you just like I trust that she will stay, so why is it so hard to compile all those facts and leave me the **** alone. Happiness and religion are not synonyms. I don't need the world to be against me to lean on him. The entire Milky Way can be falling on my back and I'll still find the strength to carry her also just to give her a glimpse at the stars.